


Just Desserts

by msraven



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Family, Fluff, Food Porn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter your history or the paths you’ve taken in life, there is one truth that they must all acknowledge - dessert is love.</p>
<p>(Or some fluffy ficlets set in a few of my existing ‘verses.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Desserts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pyroblaze18 (kultiras)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kultiras/gifts).



> A gift for [kultiras](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kultiras/pseuds/pyroblaze18), who couldn’t decide between mentalist!Clint v. the continuing adventures of booksmart!Clint or Alpha verse family v. Junction before finally giving me the vague prompt of dessert. 
> 
> Because she is a rockstar, an awesome supporter/friend/beta, and, in general, the best kind of person ever, I decided to give her a little bit of all of them. ALL the hearts for you!!

**Alpha ‘verse** (Background [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/555662/chapters/990831) and [here](http://msraven929.tumblr.com/post/36294970885/fic-snippet-james-william#_=_))

“Daddy, daddy, daddy!” 

Phil turns and just manages to angle himself correctly to avoid having James’ forehead crash into a sensitive area of Phil’s anatomy. “Oomph. Hey bud,” Phil says, leaning down to give James a squeeze, “what’s all the excitement about?”

“Ice cream!” James responds gleefully and Phil looks up in confusion at his husband, who is following their son at a more sedate pace.

Clint walks up, grabs Phil by the tie and pulls him in for a quick, but thorough kiss. “Welcome home.”

“Mmmm. Glad to be home,” Phil replies.

“Ice cream! Ice cream!” James interrupts, jumping up and down. “Daddy’s home, so we can get ice cream.”

Phil turns back to Clint, even more confused than before. “What does my being home have to do with ice cream?” he asks.

“He overheard part of our conversation last night,” Clint answers with a smirk. “I told James that I was describing how much I was looking forward to...uh...having an _ice cream cone_ when you got home.”

Phil closes his eyes, face going bright red as he groans in mortification. He’d been loopy with exhaustion after several days of meetings with the WSC, but had been too frustrated and tense to fall asleep. Phil had begged Clint for some help _relaxing_ , never imagining that their four-year-old son would overhear. He opens his eyes again to find Clint’s dancing with laughter. 

“Ice cream!” James repeats.

“Okay,” Phil finally concedes. “We can go for ice cream - after dinner.”

“No! I want to go now,” James whines. Phil braces for a potential meltdown as James’ lower lip begins to quiver and his eyes fill with tears. They had breezed through the terrible threes, but were now knee-deep into the ferocious fours. 

“James William,” Clint cuts in forcefully and Phil is still not sure how Clint became the disciplinarian in their little family. “What have I told you about the whining?”

“But Papa!” James wails. “You said...”

“Daddy said we’re going for ice cream after dinner. If you keep this up, then no ice cream for anyone,” Clint replies. 

James grunts and pouts, but a full meltdown seems to have been averted.

“Why don’t you get that book Uncle Bruce gave you?” Phil suggests. “I can read it to you while Papa makes dinner?”

“Okay,” James says petulantly before stomping off towards his bedroom, loudly making his unhappiness known.

Phil waits until James is out of the room before reeling Clint in with an arm around his waist for a longer kiss.

“Ice cream, really?” Phil asks when they break apart.

“Would you have preferred I said popsicles?” Clint replies. “Or lollipops?” 

“No, no,” Phil says, feeling his face grow warm again. “Ice cream was the perfect thing to say. I’m sorry if that was an uncomfortable conversation the next morning, but thank you for that.”

“Were you able to sleep after?” Clint asks with concern in his voice.

“Yes. Best sleep I had the whole time I was there,” Phil reassures him. “Really, thank you. We’ve...ah...never really done that before. On the phone, I mean.”

“You’re welcome,” Clint responds. “I’d say it was my pleasure...but you can make that up to me with the real thing _after_ ice cream.”

Clint gives Phil a wicked grin just as James comes back into the room and Phil nearly shivers in anticipation. No matter how long they’ve been together, Phil will always consider Clint to be more tempting and sweeter than any dessert. 

=====

**Junction ‘verse** (Background [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/617000/chapters/1112991))

“What have you done to my kitchen?” Clint asks, aghast. 

He lets his eyes slowly sweep from one end of the room to the other, trying to make sense of the mess. There is smoke coming out of one of the ovens, a pile of unidentifiable blackened lumps stacked on the counter, what Clint thinks is flour covering nearly every horizontal surface, the floor included, and brown goo splattered throughout the room. Phil and Haley are huddled around the stand mixer and looking at Clint like foxes caught in the henhouse. 

Clint watches as a dollop of goo releases its tenuous hold on the ceiling and drops into Phil’s hair. It breaks the quiet tension in the room and both Phil and Haley start speaking at the same time.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Haley confesses.

“You’re not supposed to be home yet,” Phil complains.

Phil and Haley turn toward each other guiltily before looking back at Clint with matching sheepish expressions. 

“Were you trying to bake?” Clint asks incredulously. Phil by himself is a menace in a kitchen, but Phil _and_ Haley in the kitchen together is a disaster waiting to happen. No wonder the kitchen looks like a chocolate tornado ran through it.

“Haley was just trying to help," Phil says in Haley's defense. 

"Phil! You've seen Haley burn instant cocoa," Clint admonishes before turning to the teenager. "And _you_ know I have rules about letting Phil near kitchen appliances. What were you even trying to make?" 

"A cake," Haley replies, ducking her head with a shrug. 

Clint glances over at Phil in surprise, whose face goes bright red as he nods. Before anything else can be said, Brandon walks into the kitchen, takes in the scene, and doubles over in uncontrollable laughter. 

"Phil -- let -- Haley -- cook?!" Brandon manages to squeeze out between guffaws. 

"Shut up, Brandon!" Haley screams, brandishing a spatula that succeeds in splattering more brown goo around the kitchen - both Phil and Clint flinch. 

"Alright!" Clint calls out loudly. "That's enough from both of you. Brandon, go back out to the car."

Brandon doesn't stop laughing, but does leave the room, clutching at his sides as he tries to control himself. 

"Haley, please go outside to the porch and call your mother," Clint orders. "Tell her that Phil would like her to come over and help."

"But --" Phil and Haley say in unison. 

Clint holds up a hand to stop their protests. " _Go_ , Haley. And make sure she doesn't bring the puppy."

Haley huffs and walks out of the kitchen, leaving Clint with a blushing Phil. He steps closer, carefully avoiding the mess on the floor. 

"Was this is for my birthday?" Clint asks and Phil's flush gets deeper as he nods. 

"You always cook me these fantastic meals at the Tower and when we're home," Phil responds, "so I wanted to return the favor."

"But with _Haley_?" Clint can't keep from from asking. 

"I know, I know," Phil says with embarrassment. "Both of us could burn water. I think I thought that maybe we'd cancel each other out."

Clint places his hands on either side of his husband's face, flour and batter and all, to pull him in for a long kiss. 

"I love you, you know that?," Cint says and Phil nods again with a smile. 

"Here's what we're going to do," Clint continues. "I'm going to help out at the Belt for the rest of the day and we're all going to pretend I didn't see any of this. Macie is going to come over to help you guys and, hopefully by dinner time, this whole mess will be gone and I can come home to blow out the candles on my birthday cake. Okay?"

"Deal," Phil says with a grin. "I love you too."

Clint kisses Phil again and hopes that Macie forgives him for making her deal with these two lovable idiots attempting to bake. He also sends up a silent prayer that his newly remodeled kitchen survives the ordeal - it does. 

Clint eventually comes home to a spotless kitchen and Phil's masterpiece sitting proudly on the counter. The cake is lopsided and a little dry, but it still turns out to be the best dessert Clint has ever tasted. 

=====

**Ashes 'verse** (Background [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/694243/chapters/1276699))

Phil smiles as Clint's arm wraps around him from behind, the Avenger’s hand landing in the center of Phil's chest as he squeezes lightly and drops a distracted kiss onto Phil's shoulder. Clint wanders away, mumbling equations under his breath, and Phil goes back to rolling out the dough. 

The months since Clint's non-death haven't been all smooth sailing, but Phil thinks they're finally on the right path to a long life together. Phil still likes taking Clint on lavish dates and enjoys being able to spoil the archer in both big and small ways. No matter how many times Clint tells him otherwise, Phil still feels responsible for his stubbornness nearly tearing them apart - on multiple occasions.

What Clint needs tonight is a distraction and, while Phil is more than happy to do that in bed, he never wants Clint to believe that their relationship is only about sex ever again. So Phil is making pie. He places the dough onto the waiting pie plate and starts prepping the apples, humming happily to himself and not caring how domestic this feels. 

Phil frowns a little as he puts the pie into the oven to bake and the scents wafting out of the oven doesn't draw the archer immediately out of the office. 

Clint is frantically preparing to present a paper in two days at a conference that Tony is sponsoring. As much as Phil thinks that Clint looks adorable as he ponders over complicated equations and is looking forward to watching Clint wow an auditorium full of scientists with his intelligence, Phil can also see that Clint is growing increasingly nervous about finally making his scientific debut. Phil really wishes that Tony had never mentioned to them that he'd had to move Clint into a larger room due to the overwhelming response to Dr. Walsh's first public presentation. 

It's not until Phil has taken the pie out of the oven to cool and has started whipping the cream that Clint finally emerges. 

"Okay Phil," Clint says as he walks into the kitchen. "I give. What the hell smells so good?"

"Pie," Phil responds with a smile. "Why don't you make some coffee - decaf please - and I'll bring you a slice." 

"Mmmmm. I love you," Clint says into Phil's neck as he makes his way over to the coffee maker.

"Love you back," Phil replies as Clint leaves a kiss on his jaw.

Clint waits until they are seated at the kitchen table with cups of coffee and slices of pie before posing a question. 

"Not that I'm ever going to turn down homemade pie with freshly whipped cream, but what's the occasion?" Clint asks as he puts the first forkful of pie in his mouth. 

Phil watches as Clint's eyes close, savoring the flavors of the pie, before they open to look at Phil in wonder. 

Clint swallows heavily. "You made me caramel apple pie?"

"You told me once that one of the food vendors used to give you caramel apples before you tried new tricks for the show, that it would help calm your nerves," Phil recalls. "There's no way I can match a circus-made caramel apple, but I thought this would help."

"I told you that _years_ ago," Clint points out. 

"I did actually listen to the conversations we had outside of sex," Phil says, smiling to take any sting out of his words. 

"I never said you didn't," Clint protests before ducking his head bashfully. "Nobody's ever...thank you. This means a lot to me. I guess I've been pretty horrible to live with lately."

"You're welcome,” Phil responds warmly and puts a reassuring hand over Clint’s. “And no, you haven’t been horrible - not too horrible anyway. But Bruce did mention that the presentation was perfect two drafts ago.”

Clint sighs and takes another few bites of pie before speaking again. “It’s just...this isn’t just my standing on horses or shooting at dropping targets,” he says softly.

“No,” Phil agrees, “but I know you’ll be equally amazing.” Phil puts as much confidence as he can into his voice and waits until some of that confidence is reflected in Clint’s eyes before continuing. “And if it helps, I’ll be there the whole time, sitting in the front row like I never got a chance to do at the circus.”

“Yeah...yeah, that’s helps a lot,” Clint beams and then smirks, all the tension finally leaving his shoulders. “Phil Coulson - my walking, talking caramel apple.”

“Eat your pie,” Phil orders and Clint laughs.

It must be true love, Phil thinks, that keeps him from protesting that Clint just likened him to a sticky dessert. And if the whipped cream ends up in the bedroom after they’re done with the pie, Phil isn’t going to complain about that either.

=====

**Frequency ‘verse** (Background [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/715300/chapters/1324230))

Phil is driving Clint crazy. 

He knows that it’s not Phil’s fault that Clint is so mentally sensitive to the detective’s thoughts, but they’ve been working on Phil keeping in more of his extraneous thoughts. All of their work seems to have gone out the window as soon as Phil’s doctor suggested he cut back on sweets.

It’s a pretty well known fact around the office that Detective Coulson has a very large sweet tooth. Other detectives often bring offerings of cake or candy or both whenever they need a favor from Phil and God help anyone who takes the last doughnut from the box before Phil has grabbed one.

In true Phil style, he takes the small suggestion from his doctor and decides to go cold turkey on all sugary treats. Everyone in the office walks on eggshells for the first few days, expecting Phil to show symptoms of sugar withdrawal, but nothing changes in the detective’s demeanor. The only one in the office who knows that there’s anything wrong is Clint.

For two weeks now, Clint has been subjected to Phil constantly craving and thinking about sweets. Phil has tried and failed to control his thoughts, and Clint is worried about his own blood glucose levels because suddenly he’s the one stuffing his face with sweets. He’s begged Phil to eat just one candy bar to dull the need, but the detective refuses, believing that the cravings will fade over time - they don’t.

When Clint realizes he’s eaten three donuts in the first twenty minutes of their being in the office, he decides that enough is enough. He leaves early, detours to one of Phil’s favorite bakeries, and waits for Phil to come home.

“Clint?” Phil calls out as he enters the apartment. “You were gone when I got out of my meeting with the Chief. Everything okay?”

“In the kitchen!” Clint replies.

Phil walks into the kitchen and stops in his tracks. “Uh...what is this?” Phil asks.

Clint motions to the assortment of pastries on the table and stands. “This is an intervention.”

“A naked intervention?” Phil questions, letting his eyes roam up and down Clint’s body. Clint breathes a sigh of relief as Phil’s thoughts take a decided turn away from desserts.

“Consider me just a teaching device,” Clint says. “We’re here to learn the benefits of moderation.”

Clint picks up a chocolate eclair and walks slowly toward Phil, putting an enticing little strut in his step. He holds up the eclair and raises his eyebrow, but Phil purses his lips closed and shakes his head, looking very much like a kid unwilling to take his medicine. Clint smirks and takes a slow bite of the eclair, relishing in the waves of desire coming from Phil. He takes a step forward and lets his body press fully against Phil’s before licking the excess chocolate from his lips. Clint grins wickedly when Phil’s eyes darken and then takes a step back away from the detective.

“Just because you enjoy something doesn’t mean your desire for it needs to become uncontrollable,” Clint reasons.

“Isn’t this the wrong way to be teaching me this particular lesson?” Phil argues, reaching for Clint.

“I didn’t mean me,” Clint responds and gracefully steps out of Phil’s reach. “You can have _me_ anytime you want. Well...almost anytime.”

“You’re withholding sex until I eat an eclair?” Phil frowns disbelievingly. 

“If I keep eating because of _your_ cravings, I’m going to end up a diabetic,” Clint points out and steps backward towards the bedroom. He takes another exaggerated, bordering on obscene, bite of the eclair before winking of Phil. “A taste of this gets you a taste of me and then we can spend the rest of the weekend working on your...control.”

Phil lunges at Clint, who doesn’t bother dodging. Clint laughs as they stumble into the bedroom and find more than one way to get sticky. It turns out that Phil’s sweet tooth isn’t isolated to just dessert. 

_fin_


End file.
